


Dear Brother

by ivorybyrd



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Character Deaths, Conscious switching Dilandau, F/M, Tragedy, Traumatized Allen, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorybyrd/pseuds/ivorybyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A war begins not 10 years after the events that began the Destiny War.  A time of peace has come to an end when again Freid is attacked. Allen is thrown into the fray when a devastating attack strikes Pallas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Duna (QuietDuna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietDuna/gifts).



> Gift for Quiet Duna! For the Escaflowne Secret Santa 2015. 
> 
> I really got into this and had a lot of fun doing it! It was a challenge but one I definitely enjoyed!

It came in a letter, the brown-red seal was broken, and the words seemed to carry a sense of despair with them. It was a letter sent by Millerna, and delivered to his front door. 

She sent him letters only when things weren't going well. He had become her sounding board over the years, and he never minded it. 

He only had a vague sense of what was going on outside his country’s border. There were rumors, small whispers of things happening. It never happened there, so he had little care for it. His complacency was earned after the first war he served in. The war of Destiny and Fate, the war where he learned of his family’s true past. 

It started with an apology, and he skimmed over it. 

‘…Chid wasn't found, no one made it out alive…’

His heart went into a panic, and he reread the line, and the few before it, then started from the beginning. His entire body shook, his blood raced as he realized that this was not a letter to vent. It was an obituary for the only child he bore but could not claim as his own. 

His skin felt like breaking, crumbling to the floor like pieces of shattered clay. He crumbled the paper and put his head between his knees. It was too hard to breathe, it was impossible to think straight and his brain conjured up the memories that he shared with the boy. They were not good memories, they were very few, unhappy memories. 

He tried to think of the boy, and tried to remember his smile, he could barely remember his face let alone anything else. He’d have been how old now? 20? He didn't even know how long the boy had been alive. Was he still unmarried? Was he happy as the Duke and leader of Freid when he died? 

Allen wanted to move, so he got up and prepared to leave. But then he stopped, he couldn't just show up to the boy’s funeral. He didn't even know if there was going to be a funeral, Millerna hadn't mentioned it either. No she did, he wasn't found. His hope soared, but dwindled. He thought for a moment his son may be alive. If he had a second chance he’d take it. He’d pray to the gods for a second chance. He’d go to Chid and be the father he was meant to be. 

His legs were too weak to keep him standing so he sat at his desk chair again. He couldn't feel normal anymore, and that’s all he wanted. He wanted to stop the feeling of regret weighing in his mind. This was just like when his mother died, he couldn't stand this feeling of anxiety. He wanted it all to be done and over so he could go back to normal. It had only been five minutes since learning of the inevitability of his son’s death. 

 

This had been the turning point. Peace could never retain it’s crown over the shadow of war. Asturia had long since cared for it’s sibling country, Freid. Things had gone well after the destiny war, but like the war before, their fall had gotten Gaea’s attention. 

Basram.

Zaibach didn't have a chance after the war, Dornkirk’s death ensured that they would not continue on. They lost their chance of immortality and with all of Dornkirk’s secrets, and sorcerers long gone, the empire fell despite their efforts. 

Basram, being the second in technology and industry, had suffered as well. The trades between the countries had been what kept them on Zaibach’s coat-tails. 

 

But not all were happy that Basram had extended their grace to those from Zaibach who became refugees. 

When Basram did what they could to ensure themselves a revolutionized country, sent the refugees away. 

Then it was Asturia and Egzardia that became enraged by Basram’s dismissal. They pulled exports and stopped imports from the desert country. 

Freid was the one who first opened their gates to refugees from Zaibach. Asturia and even Fanelia followed and welcomed Zaibach’s hungry children in.

 

Allen had been called to Pallas, to see to the queen Eries and her protection. It was a small precaution as they prepared for a defensive maneuver against whatever power had wanted to attack them after leaving Freid in ash and fire. 

Dryden had whisked Millerna away a week or so before, promising to take her around Gaea for an impromptu vacation. Allen was satisfied with that alone. Dryden may have not been his favorite person, but he was smart enough to notice the clouds of war. 

Eries had offered her condolences quietly to Allen, like Millerna she had known of the secret bond between her older sister and Allen, and knew before the others about Chid’s bloodline. She knew because Marlene had told her. 

Marlene told her, and Eries would carry it to her grave.

He refused her offer to leave, to take his sister so that they could mourn in peace. Away from preparations of war. Allen would not have it. He had sent his sister away upon arriving, sending her to a mountain home in the west, closer to Fanelia so that she’d be safe. 

He watched the other knights eat in silence. He was one of the few that were older than twenty years. Many of the men that were older than him at that age had retired or died. Some died in the previous war, or deserted. The group now had a lot of fresh meat, green young men ready to put their lives on the line. 

Allen couldn't bring himself to smile at them. They had been even younger than Van when the last war happened. The youngest being a 14 year old prodigy.

He couldn't help but imagine that boy’s body broken under the foot of a guymelef, or speared with a blade that’s width could reach from one of his shoulder’s to the other. 

He turned his head, and ignored their anticipated chatter about killing. He remembered the King of Fanelia’s first time mercilessly killing. How much it had weighed his sword down, made his knees shake with fear. 

The last time he talked with Van, the young man was still seeing the faces of those he’d killed. 

His mind went to his sister, he’d sometimes forget that for so many years she had been gone, changed and trained to be a killer. He did what he could to repair her heart and mind. He didn't refuse her the desires she had. She wanted to continue sword training, so he got her a master. She wanted to keep her hair short, so he got her hair cuts every other month. They had a good relationship, and sometimes he’d considered her more of a friend than any that he’d ever had. They would sometimes sit in the large estate in his study and drink a whole bottle of red wine by the fire. She’d tell him about how much she missed things. Slowly it seemed, she became less absent, and more balanced. 

He loved Celena, and he’d do whatever he could to keep her safe. 

 

Basram suffered attacks at first, when they offered financial and other support to refugees. The countries that had been hostile about Zaibach citizens finding refuge, now had turned their backs on Basram. The attacks were small at first, and seemed like accidents or isolated crimes. 

Then a capital building was destroyed, then a small village was burned down. 

Basram didn't look very far for a culprit. They pointed their fingers at those who were not native to their country lines. Pushing to get rid of Zaibach citizens, those who were found were left in the wastelands, those who refused were killed. 

Fingers were pointed to Asturia next, their king had been passive about Zaibach’s manipulation of their part in the war. Then the pardon for Celena Schezar had came along when Eries became queen. It was revealed about Zaibach’s Dilandau Albatou, the terrible tyrant had been Celena, sister of the Knight Caeli in disguise. 

 

Allen watched as Queen Eries fell from her throne. It was strange to him, he thought she had tripped. Her dress catching on her heel and she stumbled down the small steps that lead to the floor of the throne room. But she didn't get up, she didn't move. She laid there in a crumpled mess for a moment before someone screamed. Someone always screamed, and that always meant something was very wrong. 

He was at her side, picking her frame up in his arms. A white foam had dripped down the side of her face, her bright blue eyes were now dull and she seemed heavier. She was still warm, but her edges so cold. Her fingers were like ice, skin turning grey. 

She was already gone and he held her in the last half seconds she had been alive. Long enough to close those sky blue eyes. 

Allen looked up the stairs that lead to her vacant throne, and there stood a frightened servant who held an empty tray. She rushed from the chair and down the hall. Screaming her apologies as she was followed by the guard who intended to catch her and kill her for her betrayal. 

Then everything happened too quickly, the castle was stormed. Guymelefs had crashed through the front gates and made doors for invaders. 

They wore red hoods, emblazoned with a design that didn’t reflect any affiliation. Men and women alike had pulled on the hoods and bared their weapons against those in the court. Killing any one who opposed them. He even witnessed a Caeli Knight pull a hood from his pocket and wrap it over his head. 

He only killed a few before he attempted to flee, he stopped pulling their hoods back. He found many of them too young to start a war, or too human for him to stand. 

One boy had blond hair that framed his face just like his son’s and for a moment he screamed the boy’s name as he grabbed the stranger’s face to make sure. Chid didn't have brown eyes, and Chid was a bit older than this boy. He set the boy down and stood up. He was someone’s son, misguided or bred in hate. Or forced to take part in this war. Maybe his parents were killed by Zaibach, maybe by Dilandau or by another Zaibach soldier. Maybe his father had served in the war and was killed by an Asturian soldier. 

He saw the fall of his country, through tear stained eyes. They were so unprepared. They had fought for the rights of Zaibach citizens who abstained from Dornkirk’s rule. Who wanted a new life. He himself took his sister’s sins and wore them on his own hands. 

Allen stopped in a hall and sat on the ground, he pulled his blood soaked gloves from his hands and tossed them aside. He wiped what had soaked through on his pant leg. It was too late to worry about stains. His blouse was already caked with dried blood and had stains and rips from being an imperfect swordsman. He coughed out the smoke that had wormed its way into his lungs. 

He ignored the running soldiers that passed by his hall. He needed to rest, and tend to his shoulder wound. He had too many scars already, and this new one wasn’t from protecting a beautiful woman. 

“Commander!” 

He looked up and saw Gaddes limping towards him from down the hall. “Gaddes, are you alright?” Allen stood and grabbed his long time friend and helped him sit. 

“Fine,” Gaddes pulled the bit of wood from his leg. “Damn cannon-fire sent some wood shrapnel into my leg.” He shook a bit as he pulled more out. Hissing at the pain when he pulled a particularly large piece.

Allen tried not to watch, the amount of blood spilling from the wounds on Gaddes’ leg made him sick. The flowing blood turned his stomach and tied it into knots. 

“What’s our status?” He asked. 

“Asturia is fallen, the queen was killed.” Allen confessed. “I didn’t think Caeli Knights could be so easily turned. Four of our ranks turned against the country and denounced themselves.” He whispered. “We just need to make it out and survive long enough to retake our home.” 

Gaddes cursed under his breath. He ripped at some of the shirt on his arm and wrapped his leg. “If I don’t die from blood loss, I’d happily die at your side fighting to get out.” He grasped Allen’s hand and grinned. “’Til the end?” 

Allen smiled. “’Til the end.” He stood up and helped Gaddes up. “You ready?” He asked. 

Gaddes nodded, “Lets teach these bas-“ 

There was an explosion, another cannon went off and for a moment there was silence. 

Allen remembered being unable to breathe, the wind had been knocked out of him. He couldn't taste anything other than dirt and metal. And all he heard was a high pitched ringing in his ears as he tried to find a way out of the darkness. He turned over and tried to reach for something to pull himself out of the debris of the castle that was now on top of him. He had to survive, he had to find his sister and get away. He had to live or Asturia would not. 

When he opened his eyes finally, his arm was numb. He coughed again, trying to get the dust out of his lungs. Allen moved only an inch before screaming out. His arm was caught and broken under a stone brick, or most of what was left of it. He turned on his side to push it off, but there was so much on him that it was hard to get out. “Gaddes?!” His eyes darted one way and then back. Looking for his dear friend. 

“Co..m…” 

Allen turned his head and saw the broken part of Gaddes reaching out for him. He felt sick, it took his brain several seconds to figure out what he was looking at. No.. no no no… no.. no.. “NO!” He screamed. “No, no… oh no..” 

The blast had taken a bite out of him, he was burned from his face to his hip. In the space where his arm had been was nothing. But he was alive.

Allen reached out for him, grabbing his hand. “Hold on, I’ll get you out!” Allen yanked and dragged the slab with him until he was screaming in pain. He had to get out, even if it cost him his arm. “Damnit! Damnit! Gaddes!” He screamed. There were a few snaps and the unearthly sound of flesh being torn before he was released. He crawled over the bit of debris and grabbed Gaddes. 

Already gone.

Allen stood, he had to leave, he had to deal with his arm. He had to get away, he had to find Celena. He had to breathe. In and out, in and out. He had to do so much, he had to focus on something, anything other than what he looked at just under him. He wanted to stop seeing this image at his feet. 

He walked slowly away and found a spot to sit and tend to his arm. Silently, and with dead eyes he stripped off his coat and wrapped his arm with the shreds of material from it. He tried to ignore the pain, its intensity made him nauseous. 

Soldiers crossed his path, and ignored him as they ran, stepping over the bodies of those fallen. He was just another casualty to them, his rank held no meaning to them as they tried to evacuate the castle. 

Allen stared at his mangled hand and cried over it. It hurt so badly and he knew that his career as a swordsman was over. 

“Its one of those Knights right?” 

He looked up at the two hooded men that stood over him. He couldn't reach for his sword nor hold it so he just stared with heavy eyes like a dog to be put down. 

“We were told to kill any Asturian that stood in our way, and doesn't he look familiar?” One asked. 

“Yeah, hey, aren't you Allen Schezar?”   
“Yes, he is.” Another came up behind them, another red hooded figure with a long blade. It was painted with the blood of its victims. “Allen Schezar, of Asturia, Knight Caeli.”

The other two grinned and readied their blades. 

“You know, red has always been my color.” The third said, his smooth tone and dangerous drawl sparked something in Allen’s mind. “Let me decorate you in it’s beauty.” 

The first froze, looking down to see blood blossom through his shirt’s material. The other hadn't noticed until the other’s choking reached his ears. 

Another glint of silver light fell over the other man’s neck, spilling his blood down his front.

Allen stared and moved away as the two men fell in heaps. 

“Dear brother, you look a little pale.” The hood came down. There was a head full of silvery shaggy hair that hung in waves. They framed a face that was familiar but much older. “Its been a while, Allen Schezar.” Red eyes had replaced the once crystal blue.

“Dilandau.” Allen whispered, and he reached to get his sword with his left hand. 

“Now now, I don't intend to kill you.” Dilandau whispered. “I gave the servants a fright, and I didn't even mind walking around a little while in a dress.” He laughed. “Its so good to hear the siren song of war again, I’ve missed it so much.” 

Allen just stared. “Give.. her back.” 

“Not yet, I’m not quite ready to end my fun.” Dilandau pulled the hood back up. “I have to repay your kindness Allen, you are my brother as well.” His smile seemed genuine enough. “Besides, you seem to need help, you wont be doing much with that hand anymore.” 

Allen stared, his good left hand was still holding his blade at an awkward angle. He finally let go. “Dilandau.. if I die, do not.. kill V-“ 

“Fine!” Dilandau’s face dropped into a look of annoyance. “Its absolutely disgusting, and frustrating.” He yelled out. “Very well, since I’m playing vigilante I may as well get into the part.” He sighed. 

Allen nodded. 

“One thing.” Dilandau’s arm moved quickly, severing Allen’s arm just above the terrible damage.. He ignored the man’s scream as he grabbed a torch and stomped the fire until it was embers and grabbed the Knight’s arm tightly and smashed the red hot side into the wound. 

Allen tried to rip his arm away, screaming in pain but not strong enough to fight the other off. 

Dilandau finally let go and let Allen fall. “You wont die from blood loss now, and the hand was useless anyways.” He sighed and kicked at it. “Do forgive me, but I’m sure you can get another. I know Folken did. Oh but wait, Zaibach fell and Basram is full of trolls now.” He cocked his head to the side and laughed. “Come now, brother. We should leave this place.” 

Allen glared, but he was glad to have someone at least who could defend him, and fight in his stead. He followed the other, and every time they ran into someone with a red hood, Dilandau quickly and quietly dispatched them. 

“I thought I would be rusty, but I can tell she’s been practicing.” 

“I thought you two were the same?” Allen asked. 

“We are, but its weird.” Dilandau looked down. “I really just don't like the idea of referring to myself as Celena, just as she doesn't want to refer to herself as me.” He shrugged his shoulders and crouched down to pick through a dead body. 

“I dont understand,” Allen was finding it hard to focus on what was going on, his mind was still back with Gaddes. His vision blurred in and out, he had lost too much blood and was feeling faint. “I need to sit.” 

Dilandau cursed. “You know, I’m doing this not only for you, but I need to protect those who mean something to me. It took me ten years to realize what that meant, I failed last time.” He glared at Allen. “So don't make this hard for me.” 

Allen stared and tried to nod. 

Dilandau eyed him and sighed. “Don’t die on me, Allen. Celena needs you, we need you to continue being kind.” 

Allen felt his arm lift and then his body right after. 

“Shit, you’re heavier than I thought.. this will get me killed.” Dilandau could be heard, but to Allen his voice seemed to deepen and then sharpen. 

Allen glanced over and it was no longer Dilandau but Celena, but then it went back to Dilandau. He dragged his feet along the ground with Dilandau’s slowed pace. 

Dilandau’s mouth kept moving, but Allen couldn't hear, nor understand what he was saying. He just wanted to sleep, he just wanted to curl up and stop existing for a while. He kept imagining his bed, nice and warm. Celena making pastries in the kitchen, much to the frustration of her handmaiden. 

Allen was on the ground again, sitting against the wall and someone’s corpse. He wanted to scream so badly, but no sound reached his throat. 

Dilandau had returned his red hood when he saw two others, one a Knight Caeli along with another man who looked like an Asturian soldier. He walked to them casually and killed them before they could register that he was not one of them. “Some Knights of Caeli, that was pathetic.” He made a face and mocked the uptight knights. He looked back and saw Allen laying amongst the corpses. “Really..” He whispered. “You’re giving up already?” 

Allen stared up at Dilandau who had bent down into a crouch. “Please.. Celena forgive me.” He reached up and affectionately stroked the other’s cheek. 

“Not yet, we’re almost out of here.” Dilandau grabbed Allen’s hand and pulled him up to lean on him. Pulling the good arm over his shoulder and then dragging him along the courtyard. “I wish I had my guymelef, I’d just kill them all.” 

Allen wanted to chuckle, if they had a guymelef then there would be no competition.

Dilandau again had to set him down, cut down another red hooded traitor. This time it was a woman, who wore the hood. “I wonder if I’ll look that beautiful when I die?” Allen heard him say. “Oh well,” 

Allen watched DIlandau come close, he pushed himself up a bit to give the other some assistance. Dilandau was keeping him alive, regardless of their past together. He got to his knees before he heard a groan.

Dilandau stared down at the metal blade that was uncomfortably resting between two of his ribs. He was stunned. 

Allen pushed himself up and caught Dilandau as he started to crumple. 

“Please… please take it out.” Dilandau begged. “It hurts, please take it out!” 

Allen looked up to see that young boy, the fourteen year old brunette boy standing behind them, looking confused and frightened. “He wasn't an enemy!” He pulled the blade from Dilandau’s back, and threw it at the boy, missing him by only inches.

The boy shook his head quickly. “No! He had a hood on, I saw it!” He had been crying, his right eye was bloody and he’d already lost his uniform coat. “I’m sorry! I thought he was an enemy!” 

Dilandau groaned again and held the wound in his front. “Damnit. I messed up.” He moved and blood poured more from his wound. His teeth chattered as he got up slowly. “You.. look like one of mine..” He whispered to the boy. “Otherwise I’d have killed you for that..” 

They left the crying knight behind. 

Allen stood and tried to use whatever they could easily rip up to bind Dilandau’s chest, the bleeding had gotten so heavy that it soaked through the length of his shirt.

“I need to get you out of here.” Dilandau did his best to assist Allen, who in turn held him up more. 

“No, don't push yourself.” Allen whispered. 

They made it to the gates of the castle’s courtyard, and then into the forest before Dilandau stopped and sat down at the foot of a tree. “I need to stop.” He moved a bit, the dampness in his clothes made it hard to be comfortable. 

Allen stared at the other, was Dilandau always this pale, and somewhat fragile looking? Was his eyes always sunken in and his lips chapped? Allen was seeing everything so clearly that he was sure that this may be the last time. 

“Allen, do you hate me?” Dilandau asked, his once silky voice was now reduced to a soft, but cracked moan. “Do you resent me?”

Allen’s eyes widened. “No, I could never hate you.” He sat next to Dilandau at the tree. “You’re my… sister?” 

“Brother, please..” Dilandau whispered. “I still feel like I’m real, although we don't share all of the same thoughts, I still feel like Celena as well.” 

“Brother,” Allen whispered. “Ok, my brother.”

Dilandau smiled sleepily. “Thank you, but I’m tired, do you mind if I rest?” Dilandau put his hand on the ground and laid his head on Allen’s thigh. “I’m so tired, even after sleeping for so long.” His red eyes closed and for a moment his breathing was calm and even. 

Allen smiled, but his teeth chattered as he tried to hold back. “Ok, rest well, my brother.” He whispered. “My sister.” He rocked lightly back and forth, running his fingers through the wet strands of hair. Picking through the silvery blond locks and tucking them back and away from the other’s face. “We’ll come back, when Asturia is ours again.” He felt tired. Dilandau had a good point to rest. When they woke up they’d leave the country, head for Fanelia or anywhere that wasn't there. 

He looked down at the pale face that rested just above his knee. 

He caressed the soft white skin, lightly rubbing off some flecks of blood before returning his hand to the silvery hair, stroking it over and over while the other slept. 

Still rocking, forwards and backwards, the motion was now involuntary. He watched the castle fall, burning and crumbling from the start of the new war. A war he wasn't sure he’d live from. His arm was killing him, he was tired, spent from a night of hell. The last night in the wasteland fighting off his enemies and allies was nothing compared to losing his son, his friends, and watching as his sibling’s blood stain the ground under them. 

He was so tired, he hung his head and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it was a good read! I've got ideas for a second part, but I wanted to definitely get this part done for the secret santa.


End file.
